


The Kidnapper

by orphan_account



Series: Glass Cases [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Come as Lube, Crimes & Criminals, Crossdressing, Dark Sherlock, Dom Sherlock, Drugged John, Drugged Sex, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gags, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Sub Irene, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Sherlock Holmes is an engineer, who has kidnapped one Irene Adler and turned her into a sex slave. Now he finds another person he wants to enslave, and he abducts that person.</p><p>That person's name is John Watson.</p><p>(Prequel to part 1.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Target Acquired

The first time Sherlock sees John is at the Benchmark pub.

Sherlock is sitting alone at a booth, drinking whisky. He has had a busier-than-normal Friday at work, and he's just winding down, thinking that he'll need to shave Irene soon. It has been six months since he kidnapped Irene. The hair on her head has grown two inches, which is not a problem, but Sherlock prefers her skin to be bare everywhere else; that way, it would hurt her less when he binds her with tape or drips hot wax on her.

John, whose name Sherlock doesn't know at this point, is also at a booth by himself, drinking ale. Well, actually, he's staring at his ale, like he's debating whether to drink it. He is tanned, and there is a cane at his side. Somehow, he reminds Sherlock of a soldier. A defeated soldier, from the look of him.

It is only 5 p.m., but Sherlock decides to go home. He wants to avoid the Friday night crowd.

***

The second time Sherlock sees John is at the same pub, exactly two weeks later. Sherlock is sitting at the same booth; he always sits in that spot, because it gives him a good view of the whole interior of the pub.

John isn't at the same booth as last time, and he isn't alone. He's with a mate, whom he calls Mike. It's Mike who first utters John's name in Sherlock's presence.

Sherlock's vision sweeps the interior of the pub and notices plenty of details, but his eyes keep coming back to John. Nevertheless, as he sips his rum, his thoughts are on Irene. He thinks it's unfortunate that he has become bored with her already. He kidnapped her six months ago as a present to himself for getting his Engineering PhD from Cambridge. He had heard about her from a group of loud undergraduate rugby players, one of whom inadvertently witnessed his father being whipped by her.

Sherlock didn't expect Irene to play the submissive role as well as she was known to play the dominant one. But he was quickly able to crush any hope she had of escaping, and since then, she has become pliant. It seems that Irene has resigned herself to her fate as Sherlock's sex slave, which isn't bad, in fact Sherlock had expected it, but now... now Sherlock sees that Mike has gone to the loo, and John is alone, drinking beer. John's head is tilted slightly upwards, catching every drop of liquid pouring freely from the glass he's holding. Sherlock's mind replaces the image of John's glass with a beer bottle, and then again replaces that image with something else that's approximately cylindrical and releases fluid from a small hole at one end. Sherlock breathes a little harder. He looks around for CCTV cameras. There's only one in the interior, and it's aimed at the bar. Sherlock remembers another camera by the entrance and one overlooking the car park. There's probably another one at the emergency exit in the back.

Sherlock can work with this set-up. He starts drawing up a mental blueprint for kidnapping John. Assuming John would return to Benchmark, all Sherlock would need are zopiclone, a costume, and two men who share the same physical characteristics as John -- Caucasian, with dark ash blond hair, a height of 1.69 metres, and fit physique. Sherlock already has one such man in mind, Jack Wiggins. Sherlock and Jack were cocaine buddies in uni. Sherlock still sees Jack occasionally, wandering the streets of London, and he knows how to find him.

Sherlock stays at the pub until John and Mike leave around 10 p.m. The whole time, he watches John from his spot, several booths away. He catches himself mirroring John several times when the jumper-clad man licks his lips. Sherlock wants to devour that mouth with his own. Sherlock wants to fuck that mouth with his cock.

He's going to have to settle for Irene's mouth tonight. No, maybe her arse instead.

Back home, Irene is in her glass cell, fingering her swollen cunt. Sherlock had ordered her to fill a paper cup with her come. She has been fucking her hands for the better part of the last 12 hours, but the cup is not even half-full yet.


	2. The Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes home to Baker Street. He uses Irene as a stress reliever.

The Benchmark pub is only 11 blocks from Sherlock's home at 221B Baker Street. On a different night, he would have walked the whole way home. But right now he wants release, and he wants it as soon as possible. He gets in a cab.

Minutes later, he enters his flat. Walking swiftly, he doesn't even take off his black leather shoes or any part of his light grey suit ensemble. He bypasses the sitting room and the kitchen, and heads straight to his lab on the upper floor. His lab, which he converted from a plain bedroom, is filled with chemistry equipment, and machines in various stages of assembly. All over the floor, there are engines, circuits boards, power tools, batteries, pieces of wood, pieces of plastic, other sorts of materials, and contraptions that resemble mad, amateur, unfinished inventions. On tables, there are random piles of nuts and bolts and spare parts, as well as flasks and burners and test tube racks. On shelves, there are more small pieces, in addition to books.

At the far corner of the lab is a door that leads to the loo. Sherlock heads there and enters, closing the door behind him. He takes a key from his suit jacket pocket, unlocks a drawer beside the sink, and pulls out a large panel of about a dozen buttons, switches and dials. He flicks a switch, which causes gas to fill Irene's cell.

Sherlock's sex room is a bedroom in one of Mrs. Turner's flats, 219B Baker Street. The room is connected to 221B through a hidden doorway in the loo where Sherlock is now. Sherlock is the tenant at 219B, but Mrs. Turner doesn't know this. He had hired someone to meet with her to arrange the lease. Now he simply sends her cheques through the post, once a month, promptly. No-one is living at 219B, but Sherlock had furnished it with appliances and furniture acquired from flea markets. He had also left some groceries and personal effects. To give the flat a more convincing appearance of being inhabited, he occasionally invites homeless people to stay there, on the condition that they clean themselves up before coming over. Naturally the sex room is off limits to them; Sherlock had secured the room, airtight, and the only way to enter it is through the upper-floor loo at 221B.

It took Sherlock some time to create, as discreetly as possible, a hidden passageway between 221B and 219B, and a soundproof sex room with two glass prisons. He did as much of the construction in his lab as he could. Everyone within a two-building radius is aware of his inventing and experimenting, so no-one suspects anything illegal of noises coming from the vicinity of 221B.

When Sherlock is sure that ample time has passed, he shuts off the gas in Irene's cell, and turns on the exhaust function of the cell's small vent. He waits, and then he engages the hydraulic system that controls her cell.

From the middle of the room, one cannot see the two hydraulic systems that are responsible for opening and closing the smoked-glass prisons. To someone on the bondage table, for example, it would seem that the glass cases are right up against the room's walls, but in fact, sandwiched between glass case and wall are hydraulics. The systems aren't clearly visible from inside the cells either, on account of the smoked glass. 

Sherlock turns some dials on his panel of controls, in order for the hydraulics to lift, as one piece, the entire glass structure surrounding his abductee, his property, his toy, his submissive. The glass case -- with no bottom -- rises to hover three feet above Irene, who is lying on her mattress, wearing only a green bra. Next to her is a paper cup, three-quarters filled with her come.

Sherlock presses a button on his control panel, and a portion of the 221B toilet wall slides open, revealing a door to the 219B sex room. Sherlock places the control panel back in the drawer, which he doesn't close. He then opens the door to 219B, steps into the sex room and approaches Irene. He stoops to grab the paper cup first, and then places it on the bondage table. He goes back and lowers himself again, this time to pull Irene out into the middle of the room. He bends her over the table, and secures her wrists and ankles. She won't be conscious for another 10 minutes, so Sherlock goes back out to his lab, taking the cup of come with him. He transfers the contents of the cup onto a small metal dish, heats it up for a few seconds over a Bunsen burner, and pours the fluid back into the cup. He then returns to the sex room with the cup of warmed come. On his way through the toilet, he turns the dials responsible for putting Irene's glass cell back on the floor. Once inside the sex room, he closes the door to the toilet.

Moments later, Irene stirs.

Sherlock places the cup on the table. He takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and stuffs it in Irene's mouth.

"Tonight, you're not allowed to make any noise. Any noise at all." He bends closer to her ear. "I don't even want to hear a 'yes, sir'. Keep this in your mouth, and stay absolutely quiet."

Irene nods.

Sherlock takes off his jacket, and drapes it over Irene's head and upper body. All he can see of her now are her arse and legs, and her hands sticking out from under the jacket.

He stands behind Irene. He unzips his trousers, and pulls them and his pants down to his knees. He reaches for the cup and pours come on his hands. With one hand, he starts rubbing his cock. With the index finger on his other hand, he starts readying Irene's arsehole.

She bites down on the handkerchief.

"Don't think for a second that I won't punish you for not filling this cup," Sherlock says as his cock grows fuller in his hand. He's becoming erect quite quickly, for two reasons: he's excited about his new project (kidnapping John), and Irene's bum is quite inviting in front of him. He always takes care not to leave permanent marks on her when they play, because he values her physical beauty.

Without warning, he pushes a second finger into Irene. By now his hands are no longer lubricated enough by Irene's come, so he reapplies some more from the cup. He then continues getting himself hard, and fucks Irene's arse with three fingers. He bends at the knuckles to loosen her further.

He thinks of John. He thinks of bending him over, poking at his prostate, and making him writhe and moan. Sherlock is going to need to do more research about this man who has inexplicably captured his attention.

Sherlock's mind involuntarily drifts off to wondering if his attraction to John is a mere side effect of libido and existential boredom. He doesn't like this direction that his mind is taking, so to terminate the train of thought, he pushes his cock into Irene's arse. He grunts.

She squirms. He ignores her and sighs, feeling a bit relieved of physical tension. He feels tight and warm and satisfied. He begins to drill into her, first slowly, and then roughly.

The friction and force hurt. Irene is biting down so hard on the handkerchief that her jaw aches. Her hands are strongly gripping the edges of the table. Her eyes are shut tight.

The table remains steady despite Sherlock's pounding. He had built it precisely.

It takes only a few minutes until Sherlock is close. When he is about to explode, he quickly pulls out and spurts his semen all over Irene's arse cheeks. He considers her attractive position while regaining his breath.

He pulls his pants and trousers back up. He then takes a vibrator and tape from a drawer under the table. He turns on the vibrator, plugs Irene's pussy with it, and tapes it in place.

Irene trembles. Tears slide down her face.

"That's for not filling the cup. You know that I like using your come as lube, and there wasn't enough of it tonight. I'm going to leave you like that till morning. We'll see how much mess you can make," he pauses, "though perhaps the batteries will die before I wake."

Sherlock leaves the sex room, closing the door behind him. He clicks a button on the control panel, so the toilet wall would slide back and cover the door.

Irene sobs quietly. She shakes uncontrollably.

Sherlock goes downstairs to the bathroom in his bedroom. He takes a quick shower. He thinks of both Irene and John, which makes him come for the second time tonight. 

Afterwards, fresh in his pyjamas, he flops onto his bed and sleeps.


	3. My Suggestible Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after Sherlock decides he wants John, he takes him.

It takes Sherlock six months to prepare for John's kidnapping. It would have taken only two months, maybe three at the most, if Sherlock did not: (a) have a full-time job, and (b) need to take such great care to keep his plans hidden from Big Brother. Come to think of it, the reason Sherlock maintains a full-time job is also his big brother, so really, Mycroft is the sole entity to blame for the three-month delay in owning John. (Owning John, yes. The idea makes Sherlock's groin heat up.)

But tonight is the night, finally. Sherlock is going to own John tonight.

Sherlock walks into the Benchmark pub with Jack Wiggins, who is wearing black heels, skinny jeans, a black shirt under a black leather jacket, and a wig of long, brown, curly hair. Sherlock's arms are around him, supporting him as he wobbles. The pair get a few leers from the pub's other patrons, but otherwise, they are left alone. At the bar, Sherlock orders a lager for himself. Wiggins' arms are wrapped around Sherlock's waist, and his head is leaning on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Everything all right?" The barman asks Sherlock.

"Yes, thank you. I think milady's had enough," he tips his head towards Wiggins. "I'll have just one more drink, and then we'll go home."

The barman nods.

The pair settle at Sherlock's favoured booth. Wiggins leans on Sherlock and closes his eyes.

Sherlock sees John Watson and Mike Stamford drinking at another booth. He keeps an eye on them as he drinks his beer.

Sherlock's glass is nearly finished when he whispers to Wiggins, "It's time." They both get up, with Sherlock pulling most of Wiggins' weight as they head to the men's restrooms. It is empty. Inside a cubicle, Wiggins -- who isn't drunk in the least -- takes off his shoes, trousers, jacket, shirt and wig. He takes a small device from one of the trouser pockets, and then passes all of the clothing and the wig to Sherlock in the next cubicle.

They wait.

A few minutes later, John enters the restrooms sans cane. He pisses into one of the urinals. When John is nearly done, Sherlock emerges from his cubicle. As John zips up, Sherlock passes behind him and jabs a needle into his neck. John struggles for a second and then falls limp into Sherlock's arms. Sherlock drags him back inside the cubicle whence he came. He takes off John's grey trainers, jeans, light coat, and dress shirt, and hands them to Wiggins. "Don't forget to jam the cameras," he says quietly.

"Yep," Wiggins says as he wears John's clothes. He turns the coat inside out before putting it on. He scoops out John's mobile, keys and wallet out of the coat and trouser pockets, and hands them to Sherlock. Sherlock turns off the phone, then puts all of the little belongings into his own pockets. As Wiggins exits the restrooms, he clicks a button on the small device in his hand, not unlike a remote controller for a car. He walks out of the pub, making sure that Mike doesn't notice him or his clothes.

Outside, Wiggins crosses the street and turns into an alley. He makes himself comfortable beside a skip. He is surrounded by boxes and bins of various sizes. On top of one of the boxes is a white paper bag, inside which are chips and a burger. Sherlock did say he would leave food for him. Sherlock also told him not to leave this spot until one hour after dawn the next day.

Back inside the pub's restrooms, Sherlock is dressing John in the clothes Wiggins was wearing. John is sitting on the covered toilet, leaning back against the tank, eyes closed, muttering gibberish. Sherlock is standing in front of him, between his legs, facing him.

"Did you see the blue people?" John asks. He is wearing skinny jeans and heels, and nothing on top.

"I didn't, no. What were they doing?" Sherlock smiles. Zopiclone makes him talk in his sleep, too.

"Just walking," John replies. "Well, more like marching," he amends.

Sherlock considers playing with John's nipples. He really shouldn't; he really should dress John quickly and then head home. He continues dressing John, pulling the shirt down over his head and arms. He then guides John's arms through the sleeves of the leather jacket. Lastly, he takes bobby pins from his coat pocket, and attaches the wig to John's hair.

Beautiful.

And mine.

Mine, now.

After six months.

Finally.

"Let's play a game, all right?" Sherlock whispers into John's ear.

John pulls his head away from Sherlock's breath and giggles. "Okay," he says.

"First, you need to be quiet."

John nods, silencing his giggles. He is still smiling.

"Now, for this game, all you have to do is suck. Okay?"

John nods.

Sherlock pushes his left index and middle fingers between John's lips.

John sucks.

"Very good," Sherlock says in a low voice. "Keep going." With his right hand, he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, and pulls them and his pants down, just enough to free his cock. "Keep sucking," he tells John. Experimentally, Sherlock slowly pulls his two fingers away. To his delight, John keeps his mouth around them and leans forwards, following Sherlock's hand. Sherlock continues pulling his hand towards himself and down to his groin. As John follows, sucking those two fingers, his wet mouth gets closer and closer to Sherlock's growing erection. Sherlock removes his fingers from John's mouth and replaces them with the head of his cock. "Keep going," he says, and John does. Sherlock bites his lower lip and places his left palm under John's chin. "Ugh, very, very good." He slowly rubs his shaft with his right hand.

A few moments later, the restroom door opens. "John?" It's Mike.

Sherlock moans loudly. He says, "Yes, keep going, ignore the blue people." He fists his hand tighter around his cock, rubbing harder, quicker. "Oh god, yes, suck harder," he groans.

Mike takes a peek under the cubicle doors. He sees only black heels servicing grey leather shoes, and leaves. When Sherlock hears the restroom door close, he comes inside John's mouth.

Sherlock exhales deeply. He pulls the head of his cock out of John's mouth and guides John backwards, making him lean against the tank. He carefully lays John's head on the flat top of the tank. Sherlock says, "Drink the juice. It's good for you," which makes John swallow all the come in his mouth. He coughs a little afterwards. Sherlock grins. He tucks himself back in, and then helps John stand.

When they exit the cubicle, the restrooms, and the pub, most of John's face is covered by hair. Sherlock has his arms around him, keeping him vertical. He engages him in conversation, "Tell me more about the blue people, but just whisper."

"There were three of them," John begins.

Sherlock smells himself on John's breath.

The pub's doorman nods at Sherlock when he and John walk by. The doorman thinks nothing of Sherlock's companion, who seems drunk but is speaking, so obviously isn't unconscious. The doorman remembers that the man in the wig was already drunk when he and Sherlock arrived at the pub earlier that evening.

Sherlock listens to John's muttering about aliens. He listens all the way home.


End file.
